Treading in Your Footsteps
by Nearly Perfect
Summary: Your father is an amazing man..." "I wouldn't know."
1. Following in Your Footsteps

**Title:** Treading in Your Footsteps: The Potter Way

**Author:** _Nearly Perfect_

**Summary:** Harry is tired of being an Auror Brat.

Special** A/N: **_Okay um...I'm an idiot. I didn't know I had the Email Alert disabled so when I didn't have anything in my inbox I thought no one reviewed and deleted my story to post it again...not seeing the three I had.::hitshead::stupid!stupid!stupid! _

_Okay, so...If anyone who reviewed before would leave one oh...exactly the same it'd be **GREATLY** appreciated. Thank you!_

* * *

**Potter you Rotter  
**Father or Foe?

_James Potter is a fucking lunatic...or so goes the deduction. No one takes on whole leagues of DE's alone. Nobody, there's no one as bloody mad as Mad-Eye Moody, and he wouldn't even try it. It's agreed, Potter's a lunatic, all right. Out of his flipping mind._

_Ask them if you want to, they'll tell you themselves.. _

"_That man should be locked up!" Says the Old Witch of Bristol. "He has no right pulling those childish antics, no right!"She proclaims. "And with a son, to boot! How dare he?!"_

"_That man's a hero, I don't care what they say about him. He's doing the world something that no Ministry could ever achieve. Ridding the world of evil...what's wrong with that?" Carpathia Burns of London contradicts._

"_I don't believe in violence, period." Shares Kale Tristone, a pub owner in Hogsmeade. "But if there's no other way to stop these mates," he morosely concedes, "then I want it to be James Potter, hands down." _

_Butch Caster has his own opinions. "I don't give a Hippogriff's behind what anyone else says. That man is getting the job done and that's all that matters." Says the thirty-two year old bouncer. "He's my hero, the crazy son of a bitch." _

_Since the death of Potter's wife nearly fifteen years ago, he has single-handedly captured over seventy-two Death Eaters, all of which are now serving life sentences deep within the confines of Azkaban. This, of course, is a mere shadow compared to the staggering one hundred nineteen group captures Potter had either led or partook in. The numbers continue to grow. _

_However, despite these monumental stats and arrests(that include a roster holding names such as Timothy Avery, Peter Nott, Gregory Goyle Sr., Vincent Crabbe Sr., and Belatrix Lestrange) it is his methods that earn him a strange infamous fame. Potter, once known to have used nothing but the Avis charm and the Bat-Bogey Hex to disarm and seize four Death Eaters at once, fits well the reputation that accommodates him. As for the pertinence of some of his tactics, one commentator says this:_

"_I have never met nor will I ever meet a kinder more gentler soul than James Potter." Says Albus Dumbledore, esteemed wizard and current Hogwarts Headmaster. "And alas," he continues, "the time comes when sanity is a thing to be overlooked."_

**Continued on pages 7 and 9. **

* * *

"I think they're losing their touch." James Potter said to his son one Saturday morning. "I mean, either I'm getting too old or Witch Weekly is letting loose." 

"It's Witch Weekly, dad," came the dead reply from behind a plate of half eaten eggs.

"You're right. I am getting old." Struck with the not so unrealistic thought, he carried his empty plate to the sink with a heavy sigh. Suddenly the clock overhead sang out the faint artificial cry of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, erupting in the small kitchen.

"Gagh! I'm going to be late!" James cried out before sprinting from the kitchen to his bedroom for his work robes.

"What's wrong with what you have on?" He was asked as he bounded up the stairs.

"I don't think the ministry would be too happy if their First Lieutenant of the Auror Division showed up in jeans and a T-shirt, thanks very much." He yelled downstairs as he hurriedly did up his robes, found them to be wrong, undid them and buttoned them again. Taking the stairs by two's he returned to the kitchen, ruffled his son's hair ("Da-d!"), kissed the top of his head and was out the door cursing the repair man for not showing up yesterday for their floo.

Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, shaking his head at the still flung open door. There went his primary care giver, his origin of life, his "responsible" guardian, with coffee stains under his robes and an uncombed head. _Well_, he thought, _no one will probably even know the difference anyway._

Harry Potter had long ago realized the severity of his father's work. He had accepted it from the very start...more or less. He had also gone through some of this so called "growing up" he had heard so much about, even if it wasn't entirely proportionally. True, he was the spinning image of his father and well aware that he had "his mother's eyes." He was still on the shorter side, a bit skinny despite all the junk food he and his father had based their diet/lifestyle upon, and his vision was still of poorer quality than a Boggart in a crowded room. He was again accepting, though. He supposed that he was just-

"Argh!" Thoroughly frustrated, Harry chucked a breakfast roll at the muggle-and-magic-tampered clock. The shrilling ceased in the kitchen, but still rang in his ears. He pressed on his accosted ears gingerly, checking for damage as he cleaned his half empty plate. Whatever possessed that crazy git of a man to install a _Skrewt's _call...He really was exposed to just too many resources at the ministry. _Especially_ with Arthur Weasley so eager to please.

Harry allowed a smile to grace his face at the thought of dear old Mr. Weasley, and all the Weasleys really. Harry loved them. James loved them. They were_ the_ All Original Family. The hand me downs, the bickering and the sibling rivalry made it impossible to turn down an invitation to dinner, particularly when Bill and Charlie came for a visit. They were loud and wild and perfectly flawed in every way. Harry didn't know what it was about them that got to him so much, but he wasn't too interested in a reason. They were whole. They were one. They were a family.

Harry supposed that he loved his father, as all teenaged boys loved their widowed dad. They were all each other had. Harry loved his father...even if he was a little-

"Oh and Harry," James suddenly appeared in the front doorway, making Harry jump.

"Yeah?" He answered baffled. James grinned back.

"Happy birthday." He was off.

Harry grinned identically as he turned back to the sink. His father would be late that morning. There was no way he could run to Mrs. Figg's, wait for her to track down her floo powder that was always missing (though it was a growing theory that the woman only did it for more time alone with James) and get to the ministry Auror Division on time. He was going to be very late, and all because he had to run back to wish Harry a Happy Birthday.

Harry loved his father very much. But at that moment he couldn't help but agree that he was a complete and sodding lunatic. Maybe that was why he loved him.

* * *

"Hi, Jimmy." The elderly woman greeted at her door. 

"Hullo, Bella." James grinned back.

"He has no idea does he?" She asked in awe.

"Nope." He smirked Once inside, he removed his robes..

"You _are_ something."

"Yeah...well. Thanks again for your help, Bella. It's a huge help, really."

"Anything for you, Jimmy. I've been watching out for that boy since the day I found out that Lily was pregnant. It took years off my life to know she wasn't taking leave right away." She clutched her heart at the thought of her dear friend. James only smiled.

"Aw, come on Bella. I'm sure you've-what-sixty, seventy years in you yet?"

"Oh, James." She slapped his arm. "Such the charmer." The old lady blushed pink. "Care for some tea?"

* * *

"You kept your cats." James noted in surprise as they sat at the kitchen table, much of their business now covered.

The way Arabella talked she hated the hairy things whenever she needed to make like a crazy old bat with a feline fetish. The reasons varied, some dark wizards took to the muggle world to shroud their business in secret. It's amazing how much one can hear on many a Weasley Extendable Ear. The time came for those things, after all, however unfortunate.

"Yes, well," she sat down the corner arm chair and petted a cat particularly old and overweight. "They grow on you, I guess. Don't you?" She asked old fat Huey. "Don't you grow on me? Yes you do-"Huey hissed and leapt silently off the armrest prancing over to it's own little corner. Curling up, it fell into a contented sleep.

"Oh...shut it you." James the charmer was almost roaring at the image of the harsh old lady making baby noises to a fat cat and getting a wretched rejection in response. It was a story to tell for Christmas parties to come. The laughter faded and Bella found the humor silently. Conversation turned to business once again.

"So, did you get it? I told Sirius Tuesday he was supposed to-"

"_Yes_, James, I received the portkey. Everything is ready. _You_ just need to-"

"I _know _what I need to do, Bella. It was my idea remember?"

"Oh, I remember. You just better hope it works."

"Bella, _it was my idea_."

"Exactly." With that, the old lady took to her tea.

* * *

_Potter is known for his direct and harsh tendencies in the heat of Battle. Not one of his victims would talk about their capture, only continuing to deny any connections to the Dark Lord. Co-workers of Potter are known for being rather tight lipped as well. However, one fellow fighter of Potter's who wishes to stay anonymous had this to say._

"_The man saved my life once. I'll never forget it." _

_Despite of rumors, Potter is saving lives. And apparently (to a majority), that's all that matters._

_But the fact still stands, Potter is a father, and at one time, a devoted husband. Though he can only be connected with but a few woman since Mrs. Potter's passing, those woman stand for means sensational. Including the famous Classic singer, Maria Menoche and rising Super Model, Belinda Devigne, Potter's baggage is not too hard to carry._

_Regardless, whenever asked, Potter continues to claim his son as the most important obligation and general quality about himself. The fifteen going on sixteen year old is currently on summer break from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is rumored that his name had been inscribed on their roll call since birth. Reportedly very close to Albus Dumbledore, Potter Jr. seems to be walking in his father's footsteps. Perhaps there will always be a Potter there to guard the wizarding world from evil warlocks gone astray. We've no way of knowing now. But if the present is any indication of the future, it certainly appears so._

**-Steven Hyan, Witch Weekly's "Wizarding Word"**

* * *

**A/N:** All right, a LOT of resources to be taken credit for. These sites are really fascinating, if you need references or simply just more clarification on the Harry Potter world, here's where to go(no spaces): 

**www. nmt . edu / armiller / potter / potter. htm  
www. scholastic. com / harrypotter / reference / popup glossary . htm  
www. harry-potter-games . com / Harry Potter Spells . htm  
www. hp - lexicon . org / index - 2 . html **--This one is particularly amazing and the last site I found. I am doubting I will need any other sites.

No reviews, No additions. It is one thing to continue to ramble your own work when no one gives a "Hippogriff's behind," it is simply degrading to continue to ramble off of someone else's.::hmph::

_**l**u**m**o**s**_


	2. Merlin Cast

_**N**o**x**_

**A/N:** all right, more points to address

Shortly after(and by that I mean a few hours) posting this story I was struck with the sudden ambition to start another(hahahahaha). I'm not sure if one is going to be more balanced than the other. I guess it's going to depend on the response I get. Anyway, it's of course called "Living the Dream" as it is evident by looking at my bio. I actually like the plot of this one, even if it is a very vague beginning. But bear with me.

Since this is **AU **and James is alive the characters are going to be a little different. Harry, obviously since he didn't live through Hell but he's only escaping one problem....Remus Lupin, Sirius Black(_if_ they make an appearance...um, and others that would be greatly affected by the Potters would of course also be different since they didn't spend the last sixteen years practically destitute of their real lives.

**DracoScrewer:**_aww...you've read my other stories. Hehe...I feel special _

**Dannys Girrrl:** hehe_..Time will all tell all, child. Time will tell all..._

And as for those who I DELETED...**I AM _SO _SORRY** and I hope that you're still reading this. But I received the email notifications just the same.

**Katrina: **_Short and sweet, very lovely_.

**Ingrid-Potter: **_And that I shall, Miss Potter. _

**Kirina:** _Hm. You're going to be one of those special reviewers that every adolescent Harry Potter fanfiction writer has aren't you? Very brilliant...very brilliant ::strokes chin::: Well, as I said, all shall be answered in time...I just need to figure it out for myself first._ hehe

::clearsthroat::, so anyway, here it is.

* * *

**Living the Dream: Facing the Nightmare** _Nearly Perfect_

**Chapter 2:** Merlin Cast

When the smoke started to attract the attention of the neighboring muggles, the Ministry started in a haste. The flames on the small house were out, but the smoking ash was ridiculous. Finally, in a frustrated exhaustion, sect. 43 of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement which was the only body available on Hallow's Eve subsided their resistance and put a mere concealment charm on the whole mess and left it for morning. Being nothing but advanced trainees, the lot of them hoped there would be no penalty for not finishing the job, as severe as it was. No, that little house was not going to be saved, and they knew it.

Not many of the young group was too familiar with the Potters, but there were some who had heard their parents telling tales of the high regard or an act of kindness done by the family. Others had even somehow crossed their paths once or twice. It was known that Lily and James were "damn fine people" and the most loving parents that walked this earth, as are most. Some walked away morose that night, and some stopped being children. It was a good fight, this light and dark business. But until then they had never seen injustice up close. It was a time to open their eyes, because this was far from over and considerably _mild. _

The Prophet seemed to like it pretty well. The story headed strong for about two weeks and drizzled for a few more. _"Not since the loss of Potter has there been such a travesty..."_ _"Another reason to mourn in addition to the hideous events that occurred just last Halloween..." "What is becoming of our safe world?"_ Or so it went in the papers.

Lily Potter died instantly, straight away. There was no pain, only terror. What happened exactly that night wasn't known nor was it questioned for a surprisingly long duration. There was a body, thus a story. Thus, a loss of a human being and part of another's soul. James Potter wasn't heard of for a very long time after the incident. In fact, some construed that me may have died as well, and his body just was not found. But he revealed himself, almost a year later stating that he had just "been with some friends" finding again..._some_ peace. If he could remember what that was again.

There were several other lives changed that night. Millicent Bagnold, the serving Minister of Magic of the time, was discredited horribly for not being aware of any Death Eater activity and later resigned after holding the position by a thread for nine full years.

For the first time in all his one hundred fifty years Albus Dumbledore felt very old that night. Most assuredly, the Secret Keeper would keep them safe...Dumbledore was human and he made mistakes. But never in the entirety of his life did he think he would choose to make such a bad one.

Peter Pettigrew was scared shitless. He had done it. He officially declared himself a traitor. It wasn't that he had any regrets, of course not. _He_ lived. Surely his dear friends would understand that. If they thought about it...oh...shit.

Sirius Black was pissed. With a vengeance only a best friend/godfather could possess he fought tooth and nail to go after Peter that night, and physically he could have very well walked out that door to ruin his life forever, if it meant Peter's was over. But seeing the feebly shocked and injured James, Jamie, Jim, Jimmy boy, fighting painfully in his uncharacteristic state of mess for him _not _to go, Sirius remained at his bedside at St. Mungos that night. Vowing a curse on Peter's head, he knew the chances of finding him would never be as good. Sirius Black was pissed...and hurt beyond recognition.

Lord Voldemort lost _everything_. His infamies, his infallibility, his imminence, his precious power. Barely spirit enough to think, it was all he could comprehend. Luckily, it was all the spite he needed to survive.

Harry Potter was thirsty that night. He was a little hungry, too. And his eyes still hurt from that big flash of light from before. He still saw spots. Something on his face was leaking, and an old woman who didn't smell anything like his Mommy kept wiping at it on his forehead. He had another tooth growing, and he wanted his Mommy to make the ickiness go away by waving that funny little stick that she and Daddy always had. He was a year and three months old, after all. All he wanted was his Mommy.

And yes, there is another soul that was never the same after that night. There is another life forever altered. But that certain person, I suppose, is who we are here to learn about.

* * *

After eleven hours of experience, sixteen year old, Harry didn't feel any different. Three hours after James had flew out the door Harry had begun to come to terms with the reality of this whole birthday ordeal. He had a feeling he wasn't doing it right.

_Girls _examine themselves in the mirror. Harry was making observations. He was looking for proof that he actually indeed _was _a sixteen year old mate.

Harry had accepted that he was no Cedric Diggory or Oliver Wood (who still had the power to make girls swoon just by his mere memory) long ago. However, to his slight horror, it had seriously begun to bugger him lately.

He hated his hair which no amount of Sleekeasy's hair potion could tame. And to be Frank, he was sick of the mirrors reminding him. He didn't have a mother, so he really didn't want any "motherly" criticism. Except maybe if it was from Mrs. Weasley, but _only _Mrs. Weasley. James was constantly offering Harry to buy him new spectacles, perhaps more like his, but the gestures go declined. Harry didn't mind the thick black lenses no matter how out of style they may be. But the main reason was because Harry honestly didn't think it'd do any good. His eyes were bad. Too bad for him. Get over it.

No boy wants to be skinny. But Harry couldn't help it. It was beyond both him and (though slightly more appreciating) James how the two of them could eat what they do and not look like Hagrid. Harry recalled the topic being brought up on one of his routine check-ups at St. Mungos when he was younger. Dr. Pobbelo only smiled kindly and said, "fast metabolism."

Harry frowned at his reflection. Fast metabolism...right. He would never admit it aloud, but once when he was younger he ate nothing but Honeydukes and butterbeer for two weeks. Well, chances were once every four days he would get sick and by the time fourteen days were up he had lost a pound. So that didn't work.

He could build muscle, but the truth was he hated lifting weights. In fact, Harry really wasn't interested in any sports besides quidditch, and that didn't exactly entail lifting heavy objects. _I could switch to beater_. Harry thought bitterly. It wasn't that he disliked the position, he just left the Quaffle to James. Realistically, he could never give up seeker. Not on his life.

So really, there wasn't any one thing about himself that Harry disliked. It was more of the cumulative effect. Perhaps it was the little things. If only his hair was neater...If he was just a few inches taller... If only his sight was a little bit better...If only, if only, if only. If only his flesh wouldn't conform to his biceps every time he moved. He watched Reflection Harry demonstrate and grimaced.

"Well, that's great if I was a _girl_."He whispered angrily aloud. Brow relaxing slightly, he dropped his arms in defeat. He supposed, like it or not, this was the way he was and it was about time he accepted it. He laughed a sigh and shook his head. He _was_ acting like a girl.

* * *

"So what d'you do all day?" Bella asked as she cleared the table after their chocolate cake, which for the first time in recent memory did _not_ taste like it had just come out of storage after several years. "Just sit around and wait until five o' clock?"

"Not exactly." James grinned. "Sometimes I only wait until four thirty." But Mrs. Figg only shook her head. James had not yet informed his son of his taken vacation days. He couldn't just yet...

"That boy...," she muttered.

"What about _my_ boy?"

Arabella sighed and stood up straight from where she was cleaning crumbs off the table. After a few experimental tries of opening her mouth and closing it again with audible clicks, James got restless.

"Merlin's Beard, Bella! Just say it." There was humor in his voice, but it was mingled with real curiosity.

"Jimmy, you know I love you." She stated low and almost alarmingly serious. "But Harry needs..."

"Harry needs what?" James snapped impatiently after a moment of silence. If there was one nerve to be touched in all of Jamie Potter's being, it was Harry. Bella looked at him solemnly but spoke gently.

"Now hold your Hippogriff's, James. It's not as if I'm about to state you're a horrible father-"

"Well, you're sure acting like it." Uh oh, James was getting that glare in his eye.

"_James_, would you listen, please? Harry is turning sixteen today. _Sixteen,_ James."

"I _know_, Bella. I was kind of there when he was born. I may be a little off but I've held some account of the days that have passed since then."

"James, did you happen to catch that article in _Witch Weekly_?"

"What about that article?!" James was getting mad, now. She had better not be implying...

"I just wondered if you had stopped mocking it for a moment to actual consider its credibility." She was remaining calm. That made one of them.

"It's CREDIBILITY?!" He was livid now. "It's _credibility_?! Are you completely _mad_, Arabella? There is no credibility to be had!"

"Calm. Down." The old lady was soft to stern. "You _are _risking your life out there, James. And I know that it doesn't feel like it, but there's another life pretty important to you that depends on your very being. Sometimes I really don't think that you get that-or Harry. You both are so concerned with everyone else's well being that you don't even see what devastation it would cause if anything happened to either of you. Its ridiculous, really. Harry needs support. And he needs_ you_ to let _him_ support _you_. It's what a family does, James. You and Harry are one of the best families out there, don't _Umbridge_ it all up now."

For the fourth time in all his thirty-six years, James Potter was speechless.

Bella sighed. "You don't quite get it, do you?" She stared at his handsome face, now hardened. "This is such a difficult time in his life. Yes, I know," she added as he opened his mouth to protest, "you were sixteen, too. But times have changed, and despite the striking resemblance you and Harry you _can_ be quite different."

"We're not _all_ that different."James murmured, suddenly intrigued by his shoes.

"No, no you're not." She conceded. "You're both in a dead tie for the best damn quidditch players to ever bear the Gryffindor crest." She punctuated the sentence with a little bit of pride by puffing out her small bosom. "You're both dashing young men." She softened. "And you're both some of the most loyal, kind and generally wonderful people in the wizarding world." At James silence, she leaned in closer and added in a whisper, "So go to him. He needs you more than he lets on." With that, she gathered the last of the plates and headed into the kitchen.

James didn't spend more than four seconds remaining in the chair before he had his work robes back on(and buttoned correctly) and was striding out the door thinking of a good excuse to tell his son that would explain a half a day of work in a very impulsive job. Bella watched him leave her quaint little house, walk down the narrow buttercup accentuated pathway and down their street to his own quant little bachelor pad.

"Just like you need him." The little old lady of Nottinghamshire whispered into the air finding herself praying for her dear old friends once again, and Merlin cast it'd do more good than the last time.

* * *

**A/N**(again): Okay, I'm getting to all the details in time. Gee, I sure use that word a lot don't I?

No reviews, no more.

_**l**u**m**o**s**_


	3. Catching the Jarvey

_**N**o**x**_

**__**

**Matfreek: **I believe this chapter and the A/N below answers those questions. And thanks...a lot.

**searching4romeo:** didn't get that last part of the review, but I think the first part was really positive...erm right?

**Hot-Salsa:** hehe, I like that name. Anyway, thanks. Yeah, I like the fact that I can pretty much do whatever I want with the characters(to a certain point, anyway) because they _are _really different than in the actual HP world. James, well, of course he doesn't quite exist in casual life and Harry has actually grown up loved this time. ::shrugs:: It's interesting to see, I guess.

**Loviedovie:** Ah! ::throws up arms:: I'm loved.

**BluDiamond:** Aww..clappies for me. Brilliant idea, huh? Well, wait until you read this before saying that, lol.

There is a greater plot...I swear it. It's foreshadowed a bit, I guess, but mildly.

I can't believe some people actually like this. It's my first fanfic in like...two years.

Aw well.

* * *

**Treading in Your Footsteps: The Potter Way**

_Nearly Perfect_

**Chapter 3:** Catching the Jarvey

"Fal-cons! Fal-cons!-"

"Kest-ral! Kest-rals!"

It was great. The anticipated match between the Falmouth Falcons and the Kenmare Kestrals had finally arrived and with a bang. Many said it was a hands down match, a national team against a non-national was no contest. The Kestrals would pummel the Falcons into the dirt. However, there was a good portion that believed that this was the Falcons chance to_ go_ national.

Kestral supporters were playing their harps routing on the emerald. Falcon supporters were chanting in unison the team motto echoing the roaring voice resonating throughout the stadium leading the whole mass.

"Let us win!" The anonymous voice would yell.

"Let us win!" The crowd repeated.

"But if we cannot win..."

"But if we cannot win..."

"LET US BREAK A FEW HEADS!!!" There was only sound barrier breaking shouts as advocation.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Remus and the rest of the Weasleys(aside from Bill and Charlie) were seated in the front two rows of the top box. They could see everything, and with Ron's, Harry's, and Hermione's omnoculars, they couldn't miss a bludger.

Harry turned and grinned up at James who was sitting directly behind him next to Mr. Weasley. It really was a perfect ruse. Around twelve, Harry had been urged by Mrs. Figg's head in his fireplace to come over immediately.

"Oh Harry, thanks so much for coming. I didn't know what to do." She seemed distraught.

"It's nothing, what's wrong?" He asked completely baffled.

"I think there's a Jarvey upstairs!"

"Oh." To be perfectly honest, Harry resisted the urge to laugh. Jarveys, little more than overgrown ferrets(and slightly resembling Malfoy when Mad-eye decided to have a little demonstration of how transfiguration can be an essential asset in DADA) did nothing more than chase gnomes and throw derogatory comments and insults at you. Trap them in a sack and toss them outside, and that's basically the end of them in your home.

"It's all right, Mrs. Figg. Do you have a satchel or a large blanket around?" Harry had caught a Jarvey at the Weasleys before. Mr. Weasley had brought one home from a friend in the DRCMC (Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures) in an alleged attempt to spare the boys from the tedious strain of constantly having to degnome the gardens. Though,"He just wants to see one in action." Ron had said to him.

"Oh," she put a finger to her chin, "oh, _yes. _Yes I do, in fact. In the broom cupboard, under the stairs there, there should be on the shelf-above you, there." Harry looked up from where he stood within the dank and dusty alcove. It was very uncomfortable in the little cupboard and hoping to spend as little time in there as possible, he searched for the satchel quickly. He reached up and grabbed a piece of what looked like burlap. It was much larger than he conceived and it came tumbling on top him with a wave of dust.

"What the-?" He felt a small, light rectangular object fall into his hand, like paper, almost before a pull behind his navel swept him away.

Arabella tucked her wand away with a satisfactory smirk, pleased with herself. "Have fun..." She sing-songed.

* * *

Harry was whirling. He had felt this before, but before he could think of where he recognized it from he hit something hard, the ground, actually. And flat on his face. 

"Ow..." It was comprehendible. And the roaring laughter he was met with was not welcomed. Wait a minute, he knew that laugh...

"Dad?" He managed weakly as he began to get his ground. He was helped tremendously when two firm but gentle grips on each arm hoisted him up.

"That was quite possibly one of the worst landings I have ever seen in my entire life." A laughing, husky and bark like voice came from his left.

"Sirius?" He asked incredulous. He straightened his glasses. Yup, it was Sirius. He was sharing a grin and glance with James who was to Harry's right.

"What? What-" Harry stuttered.

Sirius slapped him on the back. "Oh come on, Har. Do you really think Prongs would let you turn sixteen without making a-what's the word-_hit_ of it?"

Harry looked up at James, who nodded still grinning. Looking past his father, Harry saw the banner. "Falmouth Falcons Vs. Kenmare Kestrals!" Half of it was in emerald and the other half was dark grey. A white falcon head and a leprechaun were facing each other scowling. The leprechaun was yelling soundlessly(if it weren't Harry doubted it'd be appropriate to display that kind of language in a public area) while the falcon was squawking like mad.

Harry looked down in his hand. It was actually three slips of paper. "Top Box. Row 1." It read, seats 19, 20 and 21. Bursting with gratitude, Harry jumped at his father in perhaps one of the first bearhugs_ he_ had ever instigated. Sirius was next.

They met up with the Hermione and the Weasleys nearer to stadium, Bodmin Moor, Cornwall, the Falcon's home turf. After browsing around the stands and purchasing an assortment of Fudge Flies, Licorice Wands and sugar quills, they headed for their seats.

* * *

Three hours later, in a sugar quill and adrenaline induced stupor, the gang headed for home. Waiting orderly in a small circle, James, Mr. Weasley and Hermione checked their watches for 6:00 to arrive when each of their tickets would once reactivate as portkeys. 

"15...14...13..." Hermione was announcing.

"Hey, dad." Harry whispered.

"Yeah, Har." James' breath smelled like cinnamon. It had since Harry could remember.

"12...11...10..."

"This was...it was really..." Harry had heard the entire plan, entirely conceived by James, for Harry. James had done this just for Harry.

"Wicked?" James suggested with a grin.

"9...8...7..."

"Well, yeah. That, too." Harry grinned back. James ruffled his hair.

"Thought so."

"6...5...4..." Hermione shifted her weight to her opposite hip, becoming impatient.

"Dad?" He tried again.

"Yeah, Har?"

"3...2..."

"Thanks." They were gone.

* * *

Back at home, Harry and James were talking animatedly about the match. 

"Well, it's no wonder the Kestrals won. Not just because of the nationals, but did you _see _that Hawkshead Attacking Formation?!" Harry gesticulated emphatically.

James laughed, "Which _one_?"

"I know! I couldn't _believe_ how often they used it. It was like...in every other bloody play!" He laughed.

"Well, can you blame them?" James asked in earnest. "The Broadmoor's sure aren't missed too much anymore with the keepers the Falcons have now."

"Plus, they're pretty heavy down with the Keitch-Horton Braking Charm." Harry reminded him.

"Well, 'course they are, it was created by two former players."

"Exactly, everyone in the league uses it but they're supposed to know all these spells that are supposed to really sturdy it."

"What?" James asked skeptically and waved his hand. "I don't believe it for a minute."

"It's true! There's a whole page on it in _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland_."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll show you if you want."

"Nah." James checked his watch. "Time for bed. It's been a long day, you." He added as he stood from their kitchen table.

"Oh, yeah," Harry rolled his eyes. "It must have been _so _tiringthis past week to spend an entire day lounging at Mrs. Figg's house."

"Hey," James replied defensively in good nature, "d'you have any idea how _hard_ it is to get Basil to set up a portkey for a _surprise party_? The man was ready to give up at the _World Cup_."

"Yeah, well..." As James ruffled Harry's hair for the third time that day, Harry became quiet.

Harry looked around the kitchen that just that morning James had rushed out of, Harry smiled, when he was_ pretending_ to go to work. He had turned sixteen today. He had seen a _wicked _quidditch match. He had spent the day with friends. It was a good day.

He looked up at James. He had his back turned to him as he was at the sink. He thought of all the trouble he _had_ gone through in the last week. He was well aware of some of the less than willing employees at the ministry. But James had dealt with them all. He didn't ask how much the tickets cost, or how many of the various favors he had accumulated at the ministry he had to call in to pull it off. He'd also have to thank Mrs. Figg next time he saw her...

Everyone told him that he looked just like his father but he had his mothers eyes. He reflected on his earlier study at the mirror. Slowly, Harry supposed that if this was good enough for James, it was good enough for him, too.

Harry supposed that he loved his father, even if it was...hard to believe he could be loved back.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I'm not exactly sure if Ireland and Britain _would_ play against each other...but for the sake of four pages lets just say yes, okay? I was never too hot on depicting a Quidditch match, therefore I didn't get very much into it. Hope that didn't take away too much...but whatever. 

Everything here is real in the Harry Potter Universe. Again, I proclaim the wonder that is hplexicon.

I've revised the previous chapters a bit, as I tend to do..damn perfectionism. Anyway, not much is different. Just subtle things that might answer more questions. i.e. "James had not yet informed his son of his taken vacation days. He couldn't just yet..."(chapter 2. Section 3, paragraph 2)

No reviews, No more..yadayadayada

_**l**u**m**o**s**_


	4. dignity0screwingon the kneesapologies

Yeah, I suck, okay?

I have approximately a page and a half and one badass case of writer's block.

Sorry?

A better explanation and apology in the beginning of the next chapter. Currently titled "London Bridge if Falling Down" but it may change in the future.

I hope people are still interested in this...

I _am_ really sorry...


End file.
